Grandmother
by nicsnort
Summary: One day Jonathan Crane had enough.


**A short drabble I wrote for my creative writing class. My version of how Grandmother Crane bit the dust and totally "cannon" in my DC stories.**

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><p>"Where were you last night?" Jonathan looked up at his Grandmother her wrinkled face ever lined with displeasure was creased even deeper than usual. Her hunched back and baggy skin filled the doorway to his room. Even with his elongated height of over six feet the woman seemed to tower over him like he was a child again.<p>

"I was in my room."

"Liar," she snapped. The crone was correct; Jonathan had not been in his room last night. He had snuck out through the second story window in the middle of the night. The witch should have been asleep. "I heard you sneak across the roof. You went out, where were you?"

"I wasn't anywhere I was here."

"Stop lying! You sinful, sinful boy!" Her shuffling feet and clicking cane brought her quickly across the room to where Jonathan was standing half-dressed next to his closet. The sound of her calloused hand hitting his cheek was absorbed by the wood of the room but it did not mean the pain was less. Yet Jonathan did not flinch. He was used to the hardened hand slapping his cheek, and in some ways it was a boon compared to what the crone could do.

"You were out reading those godless satanic books again, weren't you!? You evil boy!" When the next blow came the sharpened fingernails caught Jonathan's cheek leaving a thin trail of red behind.

"They aren't satanic it's science, it's fact." Jonathan replied still not moving knowing that would only set the witch off more.

"The only truth is God!" She yelled the jowls around her neck shaking wildly with the force of her cry. Though her bent form was much shorter than his she was able to reach up to wrap her talon like fingers through his hair and pull him down to her level.

"You godless, evil, ungrateful boy, how dare you defy God's will and read those heathen books? Where are they?"

"I won't tell you." Jonathan grunted as the roots of his hair strained against his scalp trying to break free.

"Tell me and God will forgive you. Tell me so I can burn them."

"Never!" Even without being able to see her face Jonathan knew the silent rage that was now etched across his Grandmother's visage. Her eyes would be a dark murderous black, her skin aflame with anger, and her small yellowed teeth would be barred. Like a dragon her heated breath spread across the scared skin of his bare back. Soon though her chest ceased its heaving and it was then that Jonathan knew he was truly in deep water.

"We're going to the church." Her hand still gripping his hair tightly the witch dragged Jonathan from his room and down the stairs. Although his body was compliant it was mainly due to shock as inside his mind Jonathan was beginning to panic. She could not take him to the church. He had not been inside that building since entering high school and he could not go back there now. Not now that he was leaving this wretched house for college in just a few short weeks. All he had accomplished all the freedom and courage he had obtained could be destroyed if he was locked inside the church again. The pair was over halfway down the gravel road that connected the old shack they called a house to the even older and more dilapidated church before Jonathan finally reacted.

"No!" He cried grabbing his Grandmother's hand and wrenching it off from him. "No, I won't go back in there!"

"Only the devil shies from God! I will beat the devil out of you!" Jonathan staggered forward as the heavy wooden cane struck his back. Before he had time to recover from the first blow a second came whizzing through the air landing right between his exposed shoulder blades. He fell to his knees from the force. Attempting to get away Jonathan began to crawl but the cane continued to strike his back. Soon the gravel gave way to a set of stairs the wood light grey from age. The whacks of the cane stopped and Jonathan was left wheezing from a cracked rip on the steps.

"Into the church! Into the church and pray to God for forgiveness!" The fanatic old woman commanded taking advantage of Jonathan's pain to grab him once more by the hair and pull him up the door of the church. Time slowed as the lock slid back and the creaking door swung open. Jonathan's breathing stopped as the crone pushed him into the derelict church. There was a great rustling in the rafters above him. Black beady eyes stared down at him and at that moment Jonathan was no longer an adult going off to college, he was a five-year-old boy petrified by these same eyes that looked so much like his Grandmother's. The soft sound of the crow's talons against the rotting wood brought Jonathan back to his senses as his back began to burn at the memory of those talons against his skin. Behind him the door was starting to close.

"No!" He shouted turning quickly and shoved his foot between the closing gap to stop it.

"Remove your foot you awful boy!" The witch said bashing her cane down on his foot. Jonathan would not budge though, not today. As he felt the cane leave his foot Jonathan pushed against the door with all his might. If he believed in them he would have called it a miracle as the door gave away and he stepped back into the sunshine. Despite his freedom Jonathan braced himself for the blow of the cane. Nothing happened. There was not even the shriek of hell-fire rants that usually accompanied the old woman. Jonathan looked down and saw the crone sprawled on the steps a pool of blood forming from the trickle from the back of her head. For once her face was peaceful.

Jonathan felt nothing as he grabbed the limp arms and dragged the body up the steps into the church. He continued to move the body down the main aisle until it rested in front of the neglected alter. Above him the wings of the demon birds began to flap anxiously. As Jonathan turned away there was a faint groan from the body. It caused a slight pause but only so he could look up at the birds in the rafters. For once they did not seem terrifying, he had beaten them as he had beaten their caretaker; the old woman who had dressed him in meat soaked clothes and fed him to the crows so like her. Now how the table have turned. Jonathan had barely shut the door when the sound of a massive rush of wings washed over him.

"God help me!" He heard from inside the church but any cries after than were drowned out by the cawing of the crows.


End file.
